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Daytura Metal
Mrs. Daytura Madline Darkleaf =Appearences and such= *Mrs. Darkleaf know's she that she is beautiful, but doesn't care unless it can be used to her advantage. *The Metal/Metel part is obvously an alias, She will only tell her real name to more trusted individuals. *Though lacking the typical flamboyant vanity of her kind, she is rarely seen with out her hair and make-up 'Done' *Likes brightly colored clothes and jewelry, but not overly extravagant. *Scars fading, but still very visible, encircle both wrists. =Nature= *Well mannered and spoken enough to rival any noble. *Usually quiet but smiles a lot, quick to laugh and find humor in even the most sticky situations. *Prone to dark moods and brooding. *She's a bit of a sadist, thought this is a closely guarded secret. *Loves the woods and isolated places. *Loves learning, and keeps an odd collection of quotes, poems and folksongs. She is usually translating some text or another. *In unguarded moments can be heard singing a chillingly beautiful and haunting lullby. =Things Past= In childhood and early youth Daytura Madline was always quiet and well behaved. She always said her prayers and was pious. She was silly, naive, and sheltered. In short everything a proper, and well brought up young lady should be. He was everything she was not. Bold, outspoken. Cock-sure, swaggering and boasting. Mal’dran Darkleaf was beautiful, with his height and long red hair. Young Dayt first laid eyes on this ranger in Tranquillien, and her heart sang. When he winked at her she blushed so that even the tips of her ears turned red. Now the farms and settlements were a hive of utter chaos, whole families slaughtered with out mercy. Wretched husks of people that they knew now lumbered among crumbling ruins. And starving refugees ambled aimlessly, swelling the quiet hamlets. In the midst of those dark days, proper etiquettes were tossed aside. She was two years from coming of age, and a long engagement was forgone. And of course her mother was more than willing to have her married into such a well-to-do family as the Darkleafs. Bold and proud as he was, he was good to her, and they loved each other. 　 It was a clear blue morning, Daytura sat in her kitchen knitting, when the news came. Captured! While off defending the borders with his band. Mal fell into the hands of the Scourge. Her heart screamed now. Everyone had heard in hushed whispers what happened to captives. Death being the very least of these things. Against all advice she packed a small bag, her fine ash bow and a small knife. “I’m not just going to let him go.” She explained, and staunchly refused any and all offers of help. A few days was all it took for her to find the encampment, emboldened by her luck. She crept too close and did not hear whatever it was that crept up behind her. Awareness spread slowly in her head, she woke to find herself bound and lying on the cold bare ground. The splitting pain in the back of her head was nothing to the cutting narrow ropes biting into her wrists. And Light! The stench! She opened her eyes and looked around and there he was! There was her beautiful Mal’dran Darkleaf. He’d been so tortured and ill used that very little of that vitality and beauty could be seen. She let out a high pitched and soul rending squeal. This outburst earned her a savage beating, a lesson in being quiet that she still keenly remembers. Not long after that Mal died right in front of her and she could do nothing but lie there and watch. Now many in this situation would be broken down, but a small flame of vengeful rage ignited in her. Cruelty it seems is catching. The guilt of surviving almost unmarked eats away at her even now. But she did get away, honing her skill with small blades, a bow and the art of stealth. After a year or so, Daytura M. Darkleaf made her way back to Silvermoon City. And almost immediately hired on with a company known informally as the Grey Tiger Tong. This patch worked band of mercenaries, thugs, and all manner of shady characters. It was soon evident that this was more than just a company and more like a family. 　 The Ward “Olivia” is the nick name she gave to the orcling, in reference to the color of her skin. The orphan who’s mother was killed in Stranglethorn by some beast. Through months of searching, inquiries and research the child’s family and clan is yet to be discovered. But it was this small toddling child that melted the heart of the widow Darkleaf. Bitterness, and self-serving vengeances took a back burner when the child wrapped her arms around Daytura’s leg for the very first time. “I’m not sending her to any orphanage.” She determined. “But children cost a lot and this thieving business isn’t as lucrative as it once was.” : Of Blades and Robes Daytura now found herself confounded. Pangs of guilt now overwhelmed her. She knew she could do better for herself and this baby. Being well educated, she decide self-discipline was what she lacked more than anything. And missing the sweet innocent girl that she herself was not so long ago. She felt keenly the need for redemption. She decided to take a huge gamble and take up her former training as a priestess of the light. It would be many months for the feeling of nakedness at the lack of decent weaponry, and the snugness of her field leathers. Months of study, strict self-denial in an attempt to eradicate her many bad habits. No smoking, no drinking, no cussing...it didn’t come easy. She even quit her job for a brief time. When in the midst of these studies, Daytura began delving into the shadowy aspects of the priesthood. Now the old addictions were new again. Power, control, the look of fear in someone's eye when they knew she had them and it was too late. On "the edge of a knife" she now finds herself balanced, to keep her dark desires reigned in tightly. A struggle not to allow this corrosive power to control her, instead. Alliance: Stormwind : :